


Chiefdoms and the Economics of Perversity

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just who's the sentinel, damn it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chiefdoms and the Economics of Perversity

## Chiefdoms and the Economics of Perversity

by Cinel Durant

These characters belong to PetFly Productions and UPN. The adoration is mine.

With my usual but hardly small thanks to Anne and Diana for the beta.

* * *

I mean really, I'm the Sentinel, damn it. But I'm hardly the one in charge. 

That's not as surprising as most folks who know Blair and me would believe. I've rarely been in charge. Police and military organizations don't exactly lend themselves to being in charge, unless you're an officer. And all that means is that you've got folks on the food chain both above and below you instead of just above you. So being in charge isn't all that status quo for me. 

Yeah, sure. I get to control some parts of my life, but so does everybody else. Probably what makes more sense is considering why I cede control of the parts I do. And that's where Blair comes in. 

See, once you start thinking about a relationship in terms of give and take and not control and obedience, you're really talking about something else altogether. Or maybe I should back up. Once you start talking about a 'relationship' as opposed to a 'partnership' or a 'friendship,' things take on a life of their own. 

We started out with a partnership. That became a friendship pretty quickly. While we weren't looking, and I mean neither of us, not at all, it became a relationship. 

Sometimes the best things happen when you're not paying attention. 

You know, I've called lots of folks 'chief' over the years, in a buddy kind of way. But never has it fit anyone better than it fits Blair Sandburg. Talk about your guys who always have an opinion about what should be done in any given situation. And I'm not just talking about stuff related to my senses, either. No, no. This is a man with opinions. That's Blair, that's Chief. 

Want to know a secret? 

There's a reason why that doesn't just drive me right out of my mind. It's the way he lives those opinions: on 150% overdrive, straight from the heart. Okay, sometimes from other parts of his anatomy, but it's always with everything he's got. It's kind of hard to get too upset with someone that genuine. Even if he does occasionally think that you're a control freak. Even if he does break into lecture mode as easily as most folks can break out into their favorite song. Even if your very life is under his microscope, and the concept of not pushing is nonexistent to him. 

But especially when that 150% is exercised on my behalf. Because he thought of something I needed before I could even find the words to ask, or saw something I missed, or just wanted to make something easier for me. Or just because. 

I'll be damned if I know when it happened. There were a lot of signposts along the way to our transition. But the bottom line is I'm living smack dab in the middle of a little 'Chief-dom' and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Take the other night, for example. Sometimes I start talking up a recipe just to see what his reaction's going to be. Wouldn't want that cholesterol-is-going-to-kill-you-Jim speech to get outdated or rusty. As his friend, the least I can do is keep him to less than twenty seconds flat. The minute it takes longer than that to deliver that particular speech, I've fallen down on my job. Never know when Simon's going to interrupt him, so I want him to be able to deliver it with all the self-righteous indignation and moral superiority that the topic deserves. And to do that he's got to practice. When I'm at the top of my form -- and hey, I'm a professional -- he doesn't have the slightest idea what I'm up to. 

And those moments are the best. 

Oh, what was the recipe, you ask? Lasagna with Italian sausage, complete with gelato for dessert. 

Damn, I'm good. 

Now where else could I get that kind of entertainment for free? The only thing that would have been better would have been to be in the middle of preparing the dish when Blair walked in the door. Just the smell of sausage is worth the wide blue stare I always get. One day I'm going to try that, then pull a pan of steaming black bean chili and a loaf of black bread out of the oven right before he goes ballistic. 

Should be worth whatever it costs me, just for the few seconds he's in deer-in-headlight mode. 

He'll be spitfire mad, for about five seconds, and then it will vanish. Blair doesn't stay mad at me for long. I don't let him. He knows he can ask anything of me, as long as I'm breathing, and get the best I've got to give. I made him that pledge the last time I let anything come between us. Once I could make it and he could believe it, things were never the same again. 

What I'm really trying to say is simple: this relationship looks one-sided depending upon the direction from which you're looking at it. That is, any direction that isn't from the inside looking out. It isn't and it works. It works for me, it works for Blair, and it sure as hell works for Simon. Have I ever talked to Blair about this? No. Do I need to? Not hardly. It just is. I've never had a second thought about it, and the moment I realized I most likely never would, I realized something else: it had never truly been perverse. 

Unless you don't know us well enough to know any better, in which case taking the time to persuade you means time away from Blair. Not much interested in that. Growing less and less interested in it everyday. 

* * *

"You ready, Jim?" 

"Whenever you are." 

Long days, comfortable nights-it's time to make that transition again. 

"If you want, I'll work on that shoulder for you tonight," Blair offers, mindful of the banging it took earlier in the day while apprehending a suspect. 

"Yeah, that'd be good." His hand rests lightly on my back as he slides off my desk and I reach for my jacket. 

"Want to stop by Binders and get that book they ordered for you?" I remember just as we turn for the elevator. 

"Oh, I almost forgot. Do you mind?" 

I shake my head no. 

"And why don't we grill steaks tonight?" It seems tonight there would be all kinds of comfort. 

I grin. He grins back. It's a relationship. Why not, indeed. 

~End~ 

* * *

End Chiefdoms and the Economics of Perversity by Cinel Durant: cineld@yahoo.com

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Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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